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Sawyer
17 July 2010 @ 11:47 am
“What’s this, James? Are we having a picnic?” I hunkered down in the sand next to Juliet, handing her a Dharma Initiative tote bag. She smiled at me, brushing her hair away from her face.

“We are, but the cooler’s up there in the shade. This is for our entertainment.” I pulled out a few different size plastic glasses and a big spoon from our kitchen. “We’re goin’ to pretend we’re kids and build us a sand castle.” I gazed down the endless stretch of white sand. “Hell with all this real estate, we can build us a whole kingdom.”

100 Drabbles of Summer Master List
 
 
My Beef: happyhappy
 
 
Sawyer
They were arguing. Michael was stomping about on the raft like he was the King of the World. Jin kept pointing at the water, rattling off something in Korean that I didn’t have no clue about. Didn’t care much neither.

I leaned back, shading my eyes to watch for the green flash at sunset. Didn’t have no clue how far we were from the Island, but any distance was fine with me. There was a chance we’d find help out here. Thank the good lord for that, because I was running out of books on the Island of Lost Luggage.

100 Drabbles of Summer Master List
 
 
I'm on the Island: The Raft, season 1
My Beef: contemplativecontemplative
 
 
Sawyer
17 December 2009 @ 05:02 pm
Got sand in my underwear - again.
Tags:
 
 
I'm on the Island: hell if I know
My Beef: crankycranky
 
 
Sawyer
22 March 2009 @ 08:26 pm
Character: James "Sawyer" Ford
Fandom: LOST
Rating: PG
Word Count: 444
Prompt: Elvis Pony picture for a_muse_meme
Notes: Long before the Island of Lost Luggage

Funny Business

Vegas is a funny place. Never know who you might run into. Course being a city full of sinners, most of the people you meet were running more of a con than I was. Not that I was running a con now. Hadn’t found a mark yet. That was going to take time. I had to take my time perusing the minnows and deciding which one of the plastic princesses was wearing real Tiffany’s and which were as phony as the Elvis clone working the Blue Lagoon Lounge down the Strip.

I was dressed in a good Brook’s Brother’s suit. The real deal. You can’t catch a sweet fish without using the proper bait, and a rich woman will know a fake when she sees it. Especially since that suit wasn’t likely to be on for long once I pasted on my charms, and I didn’t want her finding a fake label. The watch on my wrist was a fake though. I didn’t have enough money left over to buy a real Rolex, but it was a good imitation.

There she was, checking out every man who walked past her table. She should have been paying more attention to her cards. The stack of chips in front of her was sinking fast. I sauntered on over, giving her and the dealer a slow lazy smile. Sliding the last of my seed money towards the dealer to get my own rack of chips. I’m a good poker player, but I wasn’t in this game to win.

The lady was wearing the real deal, dripping in gold and diamond tips on her fingernails. Her dress cost more than I’d made in the last six months, and I couldn’t wait to try to get her out of it. She smiled back, twining a long lock of her graying blonde hair around her finger. “Have you come to take my money too?”

“Could be,” I said with a wicked grin. I know it’s wicked, had plenty of the ladies tell me it was. “But I’d rather take the house’s cash.”

She didn’t have much of a poker face. There was a tiny crease near one of her Botox resistant wrinkles that told me the cougar had a bad hand. I didn’t. It was probably the best hand I’d ever had, but I folded, letting her have the pot. By the time I was nearly out of money, I had her in the palm of my hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she laughed, draping her fingers over my arm. “Let me at least buy you dinner.”

“Darlin’,” I drawled. “I’d like nothing better than to share a meal with you.”
 
 
Sawyer
"And that is precisely why I don't do long term relationships," the tall blond man in the pale gray suit told the waiter who had seated him. “Don’t ever let a woman think she owns you.”

“I don’t like women, sir,” the waiter said as he filled the water goblet. “I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Fair ‘nough.” Sitting down at the table, the man who called himself Sawyer took a sip from his water glass. It was cool and soothed the rawness in his throat from the shouting match he’d had that morning with Gloria. She’d gotten it in her head that he was at her beck and call. Silly woman didn’t realize she was just a port of call on the conman’s trail through New Mexico.

He ran his fingertip carefully over the cut along his chiseled jaw from the ashtray she’d thrown at him. He just hoped his marks didn’t notice, but he was sure they were dazzled by enough riches to ignore his ‘shaving accident.’

“Mr. Sawyer,” he looked up just in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Whatever. Sawyer didn’t care what their names were; they were just the latest to fall for his standard con. All he cared about was the silver attaché case Mr. Loser was carrying that would be filled with $125,000. “Sorry we’re late. Had a little trouble at the bank.”

“Don’t pay it no never mind,” he drawled, holding out Mrs. Loser’s chair. Sawyer remembered her name. He’d had to learn it while he slept with her. He’d repeated it over and over again, so that Melissa thought she was all that and more. Women were so easy. All he had to do was dazzle them and sooner or later they’d be conning their hubbies into buying into his scam. “I got here a little late myself.”

“Sawyer!” Gloria’s shriek shattered the polite conversation of the restaurant. Every head turned towards the red head as she stomped through the dining room. “Is this your whore! The one you’ve been cheating on me with?”

James "Sawyer" Ford
LOST
344 Words for writers_muses
Before the crash....
Comments Here Please
 
 
My Beef: irateirate
 
 
 
Sawyer
James "Sawyer" Ford
LOST
485 Words
Before the crash....

I just want to go home. Collapse )
 
 
I'm on the Island: I don't know
My Beef: scaredscared
 
 
Sawyer
05 August 2006 @ 11:05 am
X Marks the Spot – chapter 5
Lost - Sawyer and Kate
Word Count: 924 - my Sawyer brain is a little rusty - so short chapter
Rating: R - for violence and language
Author: sanguinepen
Disclaimer: Characters ain’t mine, setting isn’t mine yada yada yada
Prompts: 50_darkfics 11 Weapon 8/50, fic_variations Work 1/5, deviant_muses picture #2
Posted to _we_are_lost, lost_fanfic, lost_roundrobin, and fanficbylee

Chapters - 1, 2, 3 4

Chapter Five

“What the fuck is that thing?” he panted as they clutched each other in the canopy. He could feel her heart beating in sync with his while they fought to catch their breath and stay quiet all at the same time. The tree shook, nearly knocking them from their perch. The twining roots snapping where they were too thin to withstand the force of the thing’s blows. Sawyer pulled out his 9mm although he knew damned well that it would never stop the thing. He aimed at where he thought he saw something move, and the tree was rocked again. He and Kate watched helplessly as the gun bounced down the tree’s trunk into the underbrush where they’d have to work damned hard to find it again if they ever did. “Shit!”

Kate grabbed Sawyer around the waist before he could do something stupid like trying to dive after the gun just as the tree was rocked one more time, and then everything went quiet. All they could hear was their own ragged breathing and the sounds of the jungle slowly returning. “I think it’s gone,” she said still holding him. His heart was beating so hard that she thought she could see it thumping through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“You sure?” Sawyer swallowed a mouthful of fear, and reached inside to find the surly, cocky, son of a bitch who wouldn’t be shaking like a little kid in front of a woman. “Should have let me get the gun. Or should have let me use yours. Why didn’t you shoot it?”

“I don’t think it’d do any good, that’s why.” She let him go, narrowing her green eyes at him. “And I was trying to keep you from doing something incredibly stupid.”

“Like what? Did you think I was goin’ to try to slug it or something?”

“I never know with you Sawyer. You’re like a loose cannon. I think you’ve got a death wish, but that lizard brain of yours won’t let you die so you keep on fighting.” He wanted to tell her to shut up. He hated that she could read him like graffiti in a bathroom stall. Instead he just started climbing down, searching the ground for the precious gun. “I’ll go back, get our packs. Don’t do anything,” she paused leaving out – stupid. “While I’m gone.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me none,” he hissed as he scraped his shin on a sharp lava rock embedded between the twisted banyan’s root stalks. “I’ll just stay here plannin’ on my next death defyin’ entertainment for your pleasure. ‘Cause you know, Freckles, it’s all about me makin’ your day.”

Kate could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface as she retraced their hurried path through the jungle back to where they’d dropped their packs while running for their lives. The man made her want to kill him. He made her want to do a whole lot more than that too, and that just made her want to kill him more. “If he makes you so mad,” she asked herself as she picked up a discarded plastic water bottle with the Oceanic Airlines label nearly worn off from constant refilling.

“Why do you take his shit? You’d be doing the entire camp a favor if you left him out here.” She knew she couldn’t do it. He was like a stray dog, who’d been beaten one to many times. He’d approach slowly, wag his tail a few times for a scrap of moldy bread, and then bite your hand if you tried to pet him. She knew what that felt like. Sawyer had said they were two of a kind, and she knew it was true. No matter how hard she tried to pretend that she was getting a new chance to start her life over here on the island, a life that included a place of respect in their tiny community, it didn’t change that she’d killed her own father. She felt a kindred spirit with Sawyer that she just didn’t feel with Jack no matter how hard she wished she did.

When she got back, a pack over each of her arms, she found Sawyer resting back against the banyan picking dirt and gravel out of the gun’s innards. “I found it all.” She tossed him the bottle of water, so he could have a drink. He was dirty from climbing under the tree, and there were some deep bleeding scratches running up his left arm. “You’re hurt.”

“Ain’t nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve had lot worse. It just fell where I had to fight to get to it. But it ain’t all I found in there.” He smiled up at her with a sly smile.

“What else did you find?” she felt a grin mirroring his spread across her face.

“Just this,” he tossed her something small and shiny that she snatched out of the air. It was a gold coin. “That’s an genu-wine British Sovereign gold piece darlin’. It’s damn old too. Guess this means there is a treasure to be had.”

“I still don’t know the point of this treasure hunt,” she settled down across from him, nearly close enough to touch, but not quite. “We don’t need money here.”

“We won’t be here forever. Someday someone’s goin’ to find us,” he took a deep breath and drew up one long leg to rest his hand across his knee. “We ain’t goin’ to be on this island for the rest of our lives.”

 
 
I'm on the Island: the damned island
My Beef: angryangry
The Dashboard: Foreigner Greatest Hits
 
 
Sawyer
31 July 2006 @ 11:14 am
James "Sawyer" Ford
LOST
Author: sanguinepen
Word Count: 323
Rating: PG
Setting: Before the series.
Prompt: #17 Fear 7/50 for 50_darkfics


They grabbed him right out of the bar where he’d been trying to get his shaking hands under control. There was no warning, well no more than them identifying themselves as the police and that he – James Ford – was under arrest. His heart was pounding, and he could smell his perspiration as they slapped the cuffs on him. They didn’t say why they were taking him, but he knew. It was because he’d murdered a man, an innocent man. A man who had made the mistake of trusting the wrong person, just like he had, and now one was dead and the other was on his way to hell. Did they have the Death Penalty in Australia? Would they shoot him? Lethal injection? Or did they have some other interesting way of putting a murderer to death like keel hauling him or tossing him out into the ocean with the Great Whites?

“Hey now,” he hissed as they shoved him in the back of the police car.

“Shut up you,” the cop snapped as he nearly slammed the door on the tall America before he was all the way inside.

“But what the hell do you want?” Ford knew that it was always best to feign ignorance. Never, ever, let them know you were guilty of anything, until they shoved you they had proof, and even then you might still be able to come up with a lie or twelve to get out of trouble. “I didn’t do nothin’ to nobody. Just mindin’ my business havin’ a drink.”

“Not going to be discussing it with you,” the cop glanced up at him through the heavy mesh of the cage that separated the front from the back seat. To Ford it felt like he was on the end of a plank waiting for the churning waters to rip the flesh from his bones. Fear was clouding his mind as they drove slowly through Sydney.
 
 
I'm on the Island: sydney, australia
My Beef: scaredscared
 
 
Sawyer
27 July 2006 @ 12:00 pm
James "Sawyer" Ford
LOST
Author: sanguinepen
Word Count: 336
Prompt #77 Unforgiving 6/50
Rating: PG
Notes: lost in the foster care system


He had his stuff shoved into the single duffel bag the social worker said he could have. It was old and tattered, not the nice one he’d gone into the group home with. That one had been stolen by one of the older boys when they’d cornered him the first night and pounded the living shit out of him taking what they wanted. Jimmy Ford had been so scared. His eyes red from crying, his lips still shaking and the hiccups wracking his thin body, he’d been easy prey for the more street savvy delinquents.

Now his lip was split, and he could taste his own blood every time he ran his tongue over them to moisten them. It seemed that while his eyes were constantly running along with his nose, his mouth was dry as a litter box. His clothes were dirty, and he missed having someone to look after him. He didn’t understand why his father’s family didn’t want to take care of him. His own granny had told the social workers no, when they’d gone knocking at her door. He added her name to the list of people he’d never forgive, right under his mother, father and Sawyer.

“Jimmy?” the lady with the skin like a Hershey bar called him from the door. “You ready to go yet?”

“Almost,” he said as he picked up the letter. It was written on wide rule paper, and he shoved it into the pack with care. Someday he’d know where to send it, but until then he’d take good care of it even if no one was taking care of him.

“You’re a mess sweetheart.” He didn’t like that she called him that. She always smelled like too much perfume and not enough baths. Her clothes were nice, but she just felt funny to be around. “Did the other boys beat you up again?”

“No,” he said narrowing his eyes at her as he tugged the crappy duffel over his shoulder. “I fell down the steps.”
 
 
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Sawyer
15 July 2006 @ 10:28 pm
Title - Death Becomes Her
Character - James "Sawyer" Ford
Fandom - LOST
Author - sanguinepen
Rating - PG
Word Count: 439
Prompt for deviant_muses #2 - July 2006
Prompt for 50_darkfics #14 Coffin/Buried



It was hot even beneath the trees. He’d walked slowly through the cemetery where his parent’s plot was. As far as James Ford knew it was the last piece of land that his family owned. All the rest of it had been foreclosed on when his mother had given all the family’s money to a conman named Frank Sawyer. Back when Jimmy Ford was a kid.

They’d lost their pretty house. They’d lost their cars, their boats, and their business. Then his father had come to the crappy apartment where he was living with his mother, and killed her then himself on the bed that Jimmy was hiding under.

That was close to twenty years ago now. He was broke again. It was either feast or famine with him even at the best of times. He’d learned to play the game, and he hated himself for it.

“Well mom,” he said as he crouched before her grave, wiping his large hands over her tombstone, a hint of blue chalk beneath his thumbnail. The inscription read – devoted wife and mother. His father’s was about as truthful, but then he figured it couldn’t exactly say. Sarah Ford – slut and home wrecker, and his father’s couldn’t say – murdering cuckold. “Things are pretty much goin’ to shit again, but then that’s the way it’s been since you screwed up my life. I’m thirty, today mom, and I ain’t got enough money to fill the tank in my car. I know, I haven’t been here in a long time neither, not since they put you both in the ground and I had to pretend that I understood what was goin’ on. I know how it works now mom. Run the con myself more than a few times. Been lookin’ for Sawyer too. Someday I’ll find him, and I’ll blow his head off like daddy did yours.”

He got up, cupping his hands around his lighter as he lit up a cigarette, blowing smoke down at the graves. “Just wanted you to know that if I ever do find him, and I have my revenge it won’t be for either of you. Should have been stronger. Should have kept your legs shut. Should have been faithful to my dad, or just divorced him like a normal woman. You had no right to take the money he’d earned and given it to that man. When I kill Frank Sawyer, it’ll be for me.” He leaned back against the tree, slowly finishing the cigarette, and then flicked the butt onto her grave. “Be seein’ you in hell mother. I’m sure that’s where I’m headin’ thanks to you.”
 
 
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